Saturday, April 16, 2011

Unearthed Gems

I was digging up some old entries in another blog I kept since I was 14 and unearthed some pretty good poetry -mostly depicting the angst of a teenager- but nonetheless, worthy of being called art on this page.

The first two were written when I was 17 years old. My Spanish grammar is not good, but that's how I translated the words roughly. Correct me anyone if I'm wrong.

1) No rompa el corazón porque su un juego a usted
   [Do not break my heart because it's a game to you]

No rompa el corazón porque su un juego a usted
Don't tell her its not a crime
a starving ravenous hunger Adam's children
stabbing Eves like her heart was strung
like a string of scarlet skittles

No rompa el corazón porque su un juego a usted
Don't lift it and admire it
only to drop it and smash its fragile fractions
into smattering smittherins.

No rompa el corazón porque su un juego a usted
Because she's malleable
Because it makes you happy that pearls fall
from her dewy eyes
Don't tell her what it is she wants to hear

You're the grandest painter there ever will be
and she'll pose for you if you just ask
but don't tell her
perfection is everything
because she will mar every single stroke-
not with taint
but with heart-cleaving anger

She's laying down her cards now
Romperé el corazón porque soy el juego [break your heart because I am the game]

2) Circles and Squares

A never ending journey
That starts with nowhere
and ends in infinity.

You'll always feel safe in them
corners and solidness
Definite shapes

Like the rings around the eyes
mounting the eye like a piece of art.
When you gaze upon them,
you'll get lost in their beauty.

Sometimes they may be hard and pricky
They aren't made for a smooth journey
Four bumps and Four brakes
All that is left are the pieces

Circular Squares    and
Squarish Circles

You can never put them together
they are not meant to be
Sometimes they collide
only to bump and roll about
But never enough to change into each other.

I don't want to play with my shapes anymore
I wish they could just roll around and make their own pictures

This third one was written at 18years old. I have no idea what it means but it's so poignant and depressing so I thought I'd put it here. Plus It has good literary references though.

3) Silent Screams

Tap tap tap
there goes the words, there goes the thoughts
printed on the screen
like water on cloth.

Everything that the mind wants

So full, so ripe, so young
Such a grace Goya paints
on humanity.
Do you recoil seeing your folly
dressed like Saturno?
Draped in all that blackness
does one learn to be cruel-
cruel, cruel cruel
Alas, poor Cordelia dies, her sin-
Love and disobedience.

Man,art thou a crime
to punish those who lavish in lust
with mines and crowns.
At a thought that mere gratefulness
always comes with a price
Paid Pain
Paints Promiscuity

I'm so tired of how the earth revolves around
the Sun.
Why change is sacred, why love is scarce.
Time begun with incestuous murder and it will end that way too.
Man killing man- brothers betraying brothers-
Time alone stands still
only she looks
and weeps
and vents her frustrations
in rain and sunshine

This fourth one entitled Hermano was written for my brother, Ulrich. For those who don't know, my brother is paralyzed on his left side due to some genetic illness that decided to express itself when he was 15. So I wrote this poem for him while he was hospitalized. I was 16 then. =)

4) Hermano [Brother]

What possibly goes through your mind

as you sit on the sofa, waiting, for someone, anyone to help you.
You wish you could do it all by yourself.
You wished you could help, like you used to.
You wish you could pace up and down those floors - contemplating, while the world falls silent but the drumming of your soles.

You have dreams. You are a leader. You are a valedictorian in your own right.
You promised to take care of your parents.
You see your siblings, with no path, yet their cruel, mocking eyes never escape your detection.

Wood, metal, electronics.
You find wonder in how everything can connect. You marvel at the very essence of building.
You had your hands. And your hands created beauty.
You were the one everyone turned to when the light bulb blew. You were the one who played with dad's tools.

You know when you see everyone that they think you're never good enough.
But you're the best.
You have dreams, they will never have.
You have a heart, they never had.
You never spoke much, but your tears betray you.
In the silent of the night, you were like a baby,
reached out to me
' I love you'

This was the last piece that I did at the age of 21. It's abstract and complicated with lots of run-on lines. The lack of title possibly suggests a sort of emptiness and frivolousness, but I particularly liked the last two lines. Writing- be it fiction or poetry is literally about humility, subjecting it to criticism despite the effort and time you put into words.

Down the drain, catch my last train
of thought pass
me by
the way was the only other thought in my head beside                    this.

She said no, he said who? and the rest just went down
Down the alley, where I'd groove to nelly and day dreams turn
around the merry go round
and round.
But none can hear the sound
of my cries and fatigue all dressed in mourning wear
all the rainbow bow.
Down to the ground in silence and awe.

This is humility in a moment
ago. Time long a girl sat here writing this.

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